


We Need To Talk

by Anonymous



Category: Redacted ASMR
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Break Up or Make Up, Confrontation, Nonbinary Character, Other, genderless reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: David is secretive, and won't let you into his life. You're sick and tired of it.
Relationships: David/Angel, David/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Anonymous





	We Need To Talk

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you get hit with inspiration and spend ur sleep time working on fic instead. anyway i'm a simp for davey

You've been avoiding him. He's probably noticed by now, because you're not texting him as much, you're not showing up at his apartment uninvited, you're not even using those sparkly heart emojis you like.

It's been four months since the first night. When you suckered him into going to dinner and after sharing a bottle of red wine, you both stumbled into his apartment and fell into bed like it was a good idea. Since then, you two have been... something. Not friends, not fuck buddies, something a little sweeter, a little fluffier than that. But not much.

David is secretive. He's let you into his apartment a handful of times, and he lets you know when he has a gig for the day, but that's all you really get. He's mentioned having two friends, Asher and Milo, but you've had to stare at David's graduation picture (in a little wooden frame, which feels like a parental thing to do, not that he mentions his parents ever) and try to figure out which of the two unfamiliar grinning faces matches to which name yourself. You've never met any of his friends, and when he gets a call from any of them while you're hanging out, he steps into another room to pick up.

You feel stupid for being as open as you have been. You showed him your own apartment (much smaller and shittier than his), you told him your work schedule, you let him into your bed and on your couch and at your little folding kitchen table. He met one of your friends, when she happened to pop in while he was there (you got the full interrogation from her later, asking why a big, handsome man was sprawled out on your couch), you explained all the posters and art pieces and photos scattered around your home.

You don't know why you ever thought that was a good idea. Clearly this was stupid, you were just some fling that David was using as a meal ticket. In no universe would you actually get to be with a mountain of a man with a heart of gold. Since when did good things happen to you?

You regret moving to Dahlia in the first place. This fucking city is so weird. Abandoned amusement parks, rivers that seem to whisper to you, baristas who warn you about the future, weirdly handsome men wanting to sleep with ordinary office workers-- none of this made any sense.

Your phone buzzes. It's David. You stare at it for a moment, then slowly press the green button.

"Yeah," you say, not really a greeting.

"Hey," David says, seeming cautious. "I know you've been busy with work recently--" Ah, that _was_ the excuse you'd given him, wasn't it? "--but I, uh. You know. Would like to see you."

You roll your eyes. Whoever ended up with this dumbass would have to be a saint to deal with how afraid this man is of his own feelings.

"Yeah, I'm free today," you reply. "Your place?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. See you soon, angel."

You hang up, feeling an ache starting in your chest run down to your fingertips. You get up and look at yourself in the mirror. You've looked worse, but you've definitely looked better. Bags are heavy under your eyes, betraying how shit you've felt recently.

But nonetheless, you leave your apartment and hop on a bus. At least you have a good idea of how to get around Dahlia, the public transit system set up in a kind of star formation. Weirdly, the underground metro system is more like an upside-down star. 

You get off near David's street, nerves prickling the back of your neck as you make your way towards his apartment. You've never liked confrontation, but you're getting better at it. You hope you can say what you need to say without your words wobbling in your throat, showing how much of a wimp you truly are.

You go up the stairs to the door of the complex, pressing the button under David's name.

"Who is it."

"Me," you say, without your usual teasing of his paranoia. The same paranoia that led to him introducing himself to you so aggressively, making quite the first impression.

You shake off the memory, opening the now-unlocked door and heading up to David's apartment.

He's in the kitchen, pouring two mugs of tea. He sets one aside for you like he usually does, and while you're tempted to decline it, maybe the bitterness on your tongue from overbrewed black tea will at least justify the way your stomach is all tied up in knots.

He's got an air of resignation to him, like he knows this is the end, too. It's been coming for while, you slowly pulling away to save yourself the heartache and him letting you go. A bitter, toxic part of you wishes it was more of a surprise to him, just to make him hurt the way you have, but you tune out that voice.

"What are we doing here, David?" you ask eventually, your voice quiet and sad, nowhere near the fiery anger that you thought you'd burst in here with. Another failure; throw it on the pile.

He furrows his thick eyebrows, watching as you stare down at your mug. "What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I just want to know what this is. Are we dating?" David cringes. "Fuck buddies? A bad handful of decisions? If you wanted me gone after the first time, you could've told me."

There's a look of genuine surprise on his face, the usual grumpy exterior shifting into confusion. 

"I didn't want you gone," he admits. "And I don't think you're just a bad decision."

"Then what the fuck am I?" you glare at him from across the kitchen, watching as his fists ball up in discomfort. 

"I didn't think we needed a definition," he says, earnest, if not a little angry at having to defend himself. "I thought we were fine being... _us_."

You shake your head, setting the mug down on the counter. You leave the kitchen, pacing around the couch to work out your nervous energy.

"Well, _us_ is pretty shitty on my end. You don't ever fucking talk to me, the only time you text me is if I text first or if you're trying to get laid, you don't tell me shit about you or your family or your friends or your job--" the words are flowing out now, a cascade of hurt, a bruised waterfall.

"Am I embarrassing to you? Am I just a shameful side piece? I'd be fine with half of it if I just knew what the _fuck_ you were ever thinking, but since you're so goddamn _allergic_ to being vulnerable, even to your goddamn self, I don't know anything! I'm so tired of being shut out!" You're yelling at this point, and David's just taking it, standing at the other side of the room with his jaw clenched and his fists curled. 

"So give me a single straight answer, for fucking once! Don't dodge the question, don't try to appease me by giving a half-answer. I wanna know the truth!"

It's weird how he doesn't try to make himself smaller. He's looking at you head on, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, and his usual angry expression is on his face. You can't tell if it's real anger or his resting expression. Eventually, he sighs, the look on his face smoothing out somewhat. He puts his hands up, palms out in a submissive gesture.

"You're right," he finally says, his voice cracking slightly. "I've-- I haven't told you anything about me. I've been... hesitant about it. For a lot of reasons."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Seriously," he says, looking at you with those deep brown eyes that you love and hate all at once. "Listen, I can tell you everything, okay? But you might not believe me."

You're in for a goddamn fairy tale, aren't you.

He sits down on the couch, beckoning you to do the same. You stay standing.

He sighs. "Dahlia's a special place. There's a lot of... interesting people around here," he starts. You narrow your eyes at him. "Have you had any weird experiences with people here yet?"

You know he's just trying to get away from the real point here, but you may as well play along. If this is your last conversation, you may as well get a good laugh out of it.

"Had a weird barista at Starbucks tell me to avoid the grocery store on a certain day, 'lest my fate be doomed'," you use air quotes for the last part. He blinks, looking a little pale.

"I-- wish you'd told me that," he says haltingly. "But besides that. That's a perfect example of the kind of thing Dahlia is, well, known for. It holds empowered people."

"Empowered."

"Yes," he insists. "I know you're not gonna believe me, but please don't leave," he's begging, grovelling, and your heart aches for him. He wouldn't do that if he didn't think it was absolutely necessary. You slowly sit on the couch, as far away from him as possible.

"Magic exists in this world. And some people have access to it, and some don't. And-- and I'm part of that world," he's picking his words carefully. You start to wonder how you could have never noticed these delusions before. "My parents were part of it, and I'm part of it. I'm a shifter, I can change into a wolf form."

You put your head in your hands. Oh, _of course_ the only way a guy like David would want you is because he can't tell the difference between fiction and reality. He probably thinks you're Princess Diana or something.

"Do you seriously expect me to believe this?" you ask without looking at him.

"I can show you proof," he says. You sigh and sit up, watching as he scrolls through his phone and finds a video. 

He turns the screen to you, allowing you to watch. It's those two guys from the graduation photo again, one tall and lanky and the other a bit shorter and stocky. They're bickering and play-wrestling, seeming tipsy if the slurring of the words is any indication. And then there's a flash of light, and the lanky guy's body starts expanding. David's voice behind the camera admonishes the guy, now known as Asher, for "bringing the wolf out during a fight". The camera shows Milo snorting, and he starts to glow and expand, as well. Where Asher was, now stood a huge wolf with brown shaggy fur, wagging its tail as it waited for Milo to be finished transforming. Once he is, the two wolves get to wrestling again, all snarls and yips and half-human laughter.

You look away then, your heart pounding. You've done minor video work, back in college, and you can tell when something's CGI. Things don't move right, they trigger some little alert in the back of the human brain. But this... it was just a video on a phone, and nothing about it seemed fake.

It couldn't be real, could it?

"I've been hiding that from you. And that's not all, I know I haven't been forthright with you," David says quietly. "But I didn't know how to tell you about any of this. I didn't want to open up to you if you would leave at the first whiff of something weird."

Your head is spinning.

"My dad started the Dahlia wolf pack some thirty years ago. When he... died, I had to step up," he grimaces a bit during his hesitation. You understand. Wounds like that never seem to heal. "I'm... I'm sorry, okay?"

You don't talk for a while, your eyes unfocused as you curl up on the couch and get lost in your own mind.

You figure you have two options. Bonk yourself on the head hard enough that you leave whatever hallucination this is, or play along with the delusion. And, at this point, the latter seems much more appealing -- who _doesn't_ want a hot werewolf boyfriend? Even if he is emotionally constipated all the time.

Fuck it. Why not give in and believe and try to indulge in a good thing for once?

"I wanna meet Asher and Milo," you say finally. He perks up from the other side of the couch, where he'd been wallowing, arms crossed over his chest like he was solving a mental puzzle.

"Yeah, sure. I can make that happen," he says, looking like a puppy wagging its tail, despite all the scowls and muscles and scars.

"So, is the moon thing not real?"

He hesitates, then laughs, a small chuckle that sounds half-choked. "Not entirely. I can explain everything."

You nod, scooting closer. You kiss David on the cheek, making the big man's ears burn red. "I want to know everything. All of it, from here on out. You don't get to hide away from me, got it?"

He blushes a little more, but smiles at you. He doesn't smile often, and it makes your gut turn into jelly. "Of course, angel. Thank you for staying."

He wraps you up in those giant arms of his and holds you like you're something precious. You don't even mind living in a dream if it's this good.


End file.
